


With Great Power

by HeyAssbuttImBatman



Series: Kliego Week 2019 [3]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Power Swap, Canonical Child Abuse, Diego Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Gen, Ghosts, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Kliego Week 2019, Protective Klaus Hargreeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 06:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18845083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyAssbuttImBatman/pseuds/HeyAssbuttImBatman
Summary: Ben takes Klaus by the arm and pulls him out into the hallway.“Klaus, do you realize what this means?” he asks.“Yeah,” Klaus replies, “I’m never going to lose a pillow fight again!”“Focus,” Ben hisses. “Look, if you have Diego’s powers, then Diego has yours.”Andoh, that’s not good. Klaus can practically feel the blood drain out of his face.





	With Great Power

**Author's Note:**

> Day Three: The Boys Swap Powers
> 
> I almost made Diego cry in this again but then i was like "i already did that on day one" so i didn't, but knowing me i will find a way to make diego cry again before this week is over.
> 
> EDIT AS OF 05/20/2019: This fic has been beta read for typos and grammar mistakes.

They land in a sprawl in the dining room, since, Five explains, the timeline is naturally inclined to fix itself and this was the last place they were all together at this age. They’re thirteen again, and it’s strange not having to look down to see his siblings. Diego is, once again, smaller than everyone except Vanya and Ben—

Oh, holy _shit_ —

“Ben!” Klaus shouts, and throws himself at their brother. They go down in a tangle of limbs that is, if possible, even more ungainly than how they landed when they fell out of Five’s unearthly blue portal.

“You’re alive again!” Diego exclaims, hugging Ben and Klaus as tightly as he can, and soon they’re all in a puppy pile, laughing and crying and reassuring themselves that they’re all here and accounted for. Even Vanya is there, carefully not touching Luther, but allowing Allison to squeeze her and squeezing Five just as tightly in return.

The door bangs open.

“ _What_ is the meaning of this?” Sir Reginald Hargreeves demands, and they all freeze. Diego wants to be angry—and he is, somewhere, he’s furious, in fact—but Sir isn’t just alive again. He’s twice Diego’s height and broad and commaning and _glaring_ at them like he’s just caught them all having an orgy, and something in Diego just _snaps_.

He doesn’t say a word because he’s sure he would stutter. He and Vanya shrink back at almost the same time, and when they look at each other, Diego’s sure the guilty, terrified look on her face is mirrored on his own. 

Diego looks at his siblings. Luther looks conflicted, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists. He’s sans his ape body, now, and Diego notices for the first time how small he looks as a child. How small they all look. _We were really just children_ , he thinks with hysterical wonder, because yeah, he knew that, but it never really clicked until now. Sir Reginald really did that to seven helpless kids.

Fuck.

The anger is back, and he’s still going to stutter, probably, but he squares his shoulders and opens his mouth—

And everyone else beats him to it.

“You asshole!” Klaus shouts, while Five teleports to his side and kicks him in the shin, because he’s still too short to reach anything higher. Allison chucks the first thing she gets her hands on, which just so happens to be an ornamental snuff box. It bounces off of Sir’s head and shatters on the floor. Even Ben, who was always so sweet and quiet growing up, is spitting words that make Diego’s vocabulary look wholesome.

Sir looks shocked for all of three seconds before he shuts them all down. One backhand sends Five sprawling. Sir crosses the room in two strides and slaps Allison and Ben, too, though Klaus dances backwards before Sir can get close to him.

“That is _quite enough_ ,” Sir bellows. He rarely loses his temper at them, but right now his face is red, his hands clenched around his cane like he’s ready to heft it and start swinging. His head is bleeding a bit, too, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, even when it drips onto his monocle. Diego slides in front of Vanya almost without thought. “I don’t know what is going on here,” Sir hisses, “but this will not go unpunished.”

“Nothing you can do is worse than what you’ve already done,” Five says, clambering to his feet. He’s clutching his cheek with one hand but his eyes are practically aflame as he looks at Reginald.

“We’ll see about that,” Sir promises coldly. “This behaviour will be rectified in all of you.”

“What? But I didn’t do anything,” Luther blurts, and they all glare at him. He blanches slightly.

"Precisely, Number One. While four of you assaulted me, the other three did _nothing_.” He glares at Luther until Luther ducks his head, his jaw clenched. “Now, Numbers Two, Three, Four, and Six, go to your rooms and do _not_ come out until I collect you for your punishment later. Number One, since most of your sparring partners are unavailable, you will find Pogo and have him drill you on the solo obstacle course. Number Four, come with me for special training, and Number Seven.”

They all go tense. Vanya’s eyes are wide as the moon as she looks up at Sir. 

“Go to your room and begin your practice early. Your medication should be waiting there for you.”

Vanya looks to Five, who gives her the slightest nod. Her jaw clenches, but she walks off without another word. Sir looks around at them all.

“Well?” he demands, and they reluctantly fly into motion. Diego heads for the door with the others, but Sir catches his arm tightly enough to bruise and hauls him back. “And where do you think you’re going, Number Four? Did I not tell you that we have a training session scheduled?”

Diego’s jaw drops. He looks at his siblings, who stare back at him with identical expressions of horror and shock. Even Five’s composure has cracked.

“S-Sir?” Diego says, confused, and winces when Reginald gives him a little shake. 

“I thought you were making progress with that speech impediment of yours, Number Four,” he says. “The rest of you—go, now!”

But they don’t move, not until Sir has dragged Diego out the door and towards the garage. Sir bundles Diego into the backseat and dismisses the driver, and if Diego was concerned before, it’s nothing to how he feels now. Fighting back the panic he can feel building in him like a tidal wave, he forces himself to take deep breaths and assess the situation, the way he was taught.

_Three possible scenarios_ , he thinks, and in his head he sounds like the adult vigilante he left behind rather than the prepubescent boy he currently is. _One: Sir has finally lost his marbles. Unlikely. Two: this is a training exercise. Most likely. Three: I really am Number Four in this timeline._ He hesitates. _Possible._

Because if there’s one thing Diego’s learned from Five, it’s that time travel can be an unpredictable bitch. There’s nothing he can do about it now, though, except go with the flow and try not to let Sir kill him.

* * *

The drive is short. Half an hour later, they pull off of the main road and trundle down a side street that’s really more of a dirt path than anything else. At its end they park next to what appears to be a cemetery. Some part of Diego thinks he knows what’s coming, but an even larger part still waits with bated breath, hoping beyond hope that there’s been some mistake.

Sir opens the car door for him and steers him through the cemetery with a hand on his shoulder, holding tightly enough that Diego tries to squirm away with every step. It only makes Sir’s grip that much tighter. Diego stops squirming when he sees a figure standing not too far away.

“Who is that?” he asks. Sir doesn’t deign to look down at him.

“I cannot possibly know to which insipid ghost you are referring,” he says. Diego stumbles on nothing and falls, just barely catching himself on his hands and knees. Pebbles and gritty, colorless dirt are tearing his knees to shreds—fucking schoolboy shorts—but Diego barely notices, can barely feel anything except for his heart pounding in his chest.

_No_ , he thinks numbly.

“Number Four!” Sir barks. “Get up this instant!”

Shakily, Diego does, and this time when Sir clasps his shoulder and steers him toward the center of the cemetery, Diego stares blankly at his feet and doesn’t resist.

At least, he doesn’t until he sees where they’re going. He stumbles again but Sir keeps him upright, and without acknowledging the way Diego twists this way and that to escape, he keeps marching them toward the dark gray stone of the mausoleum, sitting stark against the desaturated sky like a prison.

“No!” Diego shouts, and gets a slap on the back of the head for his trouble.

“You haven’t been making significant progress, Number Four,” Sir says as he hauls open the heavy door. Diego stands stock still, vibrating with fear. He briefly considers making a run for it but quickly decides not to. _Don’t attract attention to yourself_ , says a little voice that sounds like Five. _The Commission will kill you if you mess up this timeline again_. Diego has to make it through, if only to get to his siblings again. Evade the Commission, help Vanya, avoid the apocalypse—that’s the goal, and Diego can’t do that if he runs away. 

So he lets Sir manhandle him down the stairs, though he doesn’t make it easy for the old man. When he looks behind him, Sir is standing framed by the doorway, backlit like some kind of comic book villain.

“I will be back tomorrow to bring you food and water,” Sir says.

“You’re g-g-going to leave m-me here?” Diego blurts unthinkingly. Sir slams the butt of his cane on the ground so hard that Diego flinches. The noise echoes against the stone like a premonition. As the last vestiges of sound taper off, Sir closes the door and leaves Diego in pitch blackness.

Diego listens in vain for the sound of Sir’s footsteps fading away, but he can’t hear anything except his own shaky breathing, something with too many legs skittering across the floor, the slow, ancient sound of dust settling. 

His eyes try to adjust to the darkness, but the absence of light in here is so complete that all it does is give Diego a headache. He slowly makes his way over to a wall and leans against it. It stinks of death and rot in here, and he’s almost more worried about suffocating than thirst or hunger. He tries to hold his breath just to see if he can, but after a moment his chest begins to ache, and then burn, and Diego’s breath explodes out of him. He takes in greedy gasps of air until it stops hurting. His heart still thunders in his chest.

“Okay,” he says, to try and calm himself, but the sound of his voice echoing off of the stone only serves to scare him further. This is the middle of every horror movie he’s ever watched, when the one character dumb enough to get separated from the group meets a grisly, bloody end. He’s trapped in a mausoleum and somehow he’s acquired the ability to see ghosts.

It sounds even worse when he admits it plainly.

He feels jittery. Abruptly he pushes off of the wall and makes his careful way to the door. It doesn’t budge, even when he pushes against it with all his might.

“Come on,” he mutters, and hisses when his sweaty hand slips against the rock, leaving a jagged cut across his palm that stings like a bitch and bleeds just as freely. Diego presses his palm against his chest to try and stem the bleeding. It hurts, but he ignores it.

Sighing in defeat, he lets his forehead rest against the cool stone and closes his eyes. The air is damp and chill in here and if he had his own powers, he’d simply stop breathing, but that’s not an option right now. He shifts into a more comfortable position.

“ _Diego_!” something screeches, so close to his ear that he jerks backwards with a yelp, trips, and falls down the stairs. He lands with a thud and groans in pain, but cuts himself off when something shifts in his peripheral vision. He shouldn’t be able to _see anything. ___

“ _Diego_ ,” a different voice moans, and Diego scuttles backwards until he hits a wall. 

“W-who’s there?” he calls, sounding braver than he feels. He screams when a face explodes out of nowhere, bloody and half-rotted and _angry_.

“ _Diego_!” it screeches, and he jerks back but he’s already against a wall. There’s nowhere to _go_.

But he’s seen Klaus talk to the ghosts before; perhaps these ghosts can be reasoned with. There are too many of them to count already, all of them shifting and disappearing in an indecipherable glowing mass of groaning, writhing bodies. His name is hissed like a mantra, a prayer to a god whose people would kill him if given half the chance.

“Hello?” he says hesitantly. “C-c-can you understand m-me?” He thinks he might pass out if his heart rate gets any higher, but he powers through it and steps forward—

Only to _slam_ himself backwards into the wall when one of the ghosts _lunges_ at him, face nothing more than a mass of puckered sores dripping fluids.

“ _Diego_!”

Diego clenches his eyes shut to block out the sights, but that only makes him feel more vulnerable, and besides, the ghosts are _loud_ —picking up steam, it seems, because his name is no longer a whisper—it is an earthquake building deep in the foundations of them, trembling up towards the surface, a cacophony of wails and angry bellows and mournful moaning that he _can't stop_. He claps his hands over his ears but all that does is make them angrier.

__

He grits his teeth so hard his jaw starts to ache. “Shut up!” he shouts, and lets out a frustrated shout when they don’t. “God, just _shut up!_ Stop, _please!_ ” 

But

they

_d o n ’ t_

A sob tears its way out of his throat, and then he is screaming, too, begging for them to stop, please, just _leave me alone!_ He is nothing more than them, nothing less, and they are all just ghosts screaming into the darkness for a peace that never comes.

* * *

It’s strange for Sir to leave them to their own devices, but Klaus supposes that his special training with Diego is more important than making sure his other kids go to their rooms and stare at the wall or whatever he expects them to do. Honestly, how interesting is throwing knives anyway? From what he remembers, Diego’s training sessions usually lasted a few hours, but Klaus can’t imagine what they do for so long that keeps them so occupied. There are only so many ways you can throw a knife, after all. 

Luther slinks off to go track down Pogo, and Klaus and the others start making their way to their rooms. Ben sticks close to Klaus, not that Klaus is complaining. It’s nice to have his brother back; not to just be able to see and hear him, but also to touch, to feel the warmth of his body, to listen to his shaky breathing. Ben might be on the verge of a breakdown, but he when Klaus looks over at him, he only looks a bit worried. 

Downstairs, the front door slams shut and Five stops in the middle of the hallway. 

“Get Vanya and meet me in my room,” he says. “I’m going to get Luther. I’ll meet you there.”

He steps forward and disappears without so much as a backward glance at them. Allison and Klaus exchange exasperated looks. She has her fingers twisted in the sleeve of Ben’s blazer, but Klaus doesn’t know if she knows she’s doing it.

“I’ll go get her,” she says. She’s halfway down the hallway before Klaus calls her name. 

“If she hasn’t taken her pill,” he says slowly, making sure to choose his words carefully, “have her take it.” Allison opens her mouth to protest, but Klaus barrels on. “Look, the last time she was off her meds, she caused the apocalypse. I’m not saying we’re going to keep drugging her forever, but I don’t think we should take any chances with her powers until we come up with a plan.”

Allison hesitates but finally nods. “Fine,” she says. “But I’m telling her it was _your_ idea.”

“Credit where credit is due, and all that,” Klaus says, wiggling his fingers. He looks over at Ben and frowns at the look on his face. “What?”

“Do you think it’s such a good idea to keep her drugged?”

“For now, yeah.” His smile dims slightly. “Look she’s been on those meds for a long time, and addiction is very psychological.”

Ben’s frown deepens. “Klaus,” he says, but Klaus brushes the question off with a whole-body shiver. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “This body isn’t used to the hard shit yet, so all the withdrawal will be mental. Probably. I don’t actually know, this has never happened to me before.”

“Hmm,” says Ben, unconvinced. “If you say so.”

“I do, actually,” says Klaus. Five is already there when he and Ben walk into the room. Allison and Vanya enter a few moments later, and then Luther lumbers in, looking perturbed. 

“Okay,” says Five. “Now that we’re all here—”

“Diego isn’t here,” says Allison. Five waves a hand dismissively. 

“Diego’s training sessions never lasted more than a few hours. We can update him when he returns.” Ben frowns but doesn’t say anything. “Right now, it’s more important to decide what to do with Vanya.”

As one, they all turn to look at her. She shrinks behind Allison. 

“Did you take the pill?” Five asks. She nods. 

“Allison said Klaus said I should,” she says, looking to Klaus for confirmation. 

“Sorry about that,” Klaus says gently. “But it’s not a good idea to quit cold turkey, you know? We don’t know if you’ll have withdrawal symptoms, and it’s probably best to figure out a plan before we do anything at all.”

“Smart,” Five says, impressed.

“So what do we do, then?” Luther asks. 

“If the apocalypse happens because Vanya can’t control her powers, then we should teach her how to control them,” Allison says. Luther shakes his head.

“Or we could just keep her on the meds until after the day when the apocalypse is supposed to happen,” he suggests. Allison visibly bristles.

“We are not drugging our sister,” she snaps.

“Plus if it isn’t Vanya, it’ll just be something else,” Five says. “All we’d end up with is a different apocalypse and a Vanya who doesn’t know how to control her powers.”

“How about we ask Vanya?” Klaus says loudly. Everyone shuts up immediately. “Like I suggested we do when we had her locked in a vault in the basement, remember?”

“When Luther had her in there, you mean,” Ben says, and flushes when they all turn to him. “Sorry. I keep forgetting you guys can hear me now.” The silence turns awkward.

“Klaus is right,” Five says after a moment, “shockingly. It’s Vanya’s choice. They’re her powers, after all.”

Once again the center of attention, Vanya bites her lip and ducks her head a little, but doesn’t back away from their gazes.

“Do you guys really think I can learn to control it?” she asks. “Because if you’re not, then I’m going back on the pills.” Klaus can hear the distaste in her voice; she clearly doesn’t want to continue drugging herself. He puts his hand on her shoulder and she looks up at him in surprise. He forgot how tiny she was at this age. Her eyes are huge puppy-things that practically beg him to fix this.

“We’re sure,” he says, his tone brooking no room for argument. “You’ve got us as backup now, Vanya, and a lifetime of practice ahead of you. You’ve got this in the bag.”

The tiniest smile graces her face. “Okay,” she says simply. “I’m going to flush my meds.”

“Attagirl,” Allison says softly. When she looks at Klaus, her eyes are grateful.

“Maybe don’t quit cold turkey, but still, good for you,” Klaus says.

Luther heaves an explosive sigh. “This is going to be tough,” he says.

“Maybe for you,” Five says. He’s on his bed, scribbling madly on the ceiling with chalk, and he doesn’t even look away from what he’s doing. “But some of us have brain cells, so it should be fine.”

“I wasn’t talking about Vanya’s powers,” Luther says, bristling. “I meant it’ll be hard to hide this from Dad. You don’t think he’ll be suspicious if we all start acting like adults?”

“ _You_ don’t think I’ve thought of that?” Five replies. He finally sets down his chalk and wipes dust onto his pants. “And it won’t be as big a problem as you think.”

Allison frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ ,” says Five, “that we may have the memories of our adult selves, but we’re still in the bodies of children. Our hormones, our brain chemistry—they’re all going to affect how we act.”

“So we’re naturally predisposed to acting more like actual children right now?” Ben says. The corner of Five’s mouth quirks up. 

“I’m glad one of you can keep up, at least,” he says. “Alright, I need to try and figure out what the Commission is going to do, so everybody out.”

Klaus rolls his eyes and turns to go, but he pauses when Ben grabs his wrist. 

“Wait,” he says. “Something has been bothering me since we got back.”

“Is it the fact that you’re alive?” Luther asks tactlessly. “Because I imagine that might be kind of a shock.”

Ben gives Luther a disgusted look. “No, Luther, shut up. Come on, guys.” He looks at them all in turn, his eyebrows furrowed in thought and his gaze intense. “Don’t you think it’s weird that Diego and Klaus switched numbers?”

They look to Five. He blinks, and Klaus laughs, because he gets it; Five doesn’t know, or he forgot to think about it, and none of the others have figured it out yet.

The silence stretches on and Ben makes a frustrated sound. He snatches the chalk from Five’s dresser and gives it to Klaus, then steers Klaus to the other side of the room by his shoulders. 

“Throw the chalk at Luther,” Ben says. Luther makes an offended sound. Five inhales sharply.

“How is he supposed to do that if he’s facing the wall and Luther is behind him?” Allison says in a tone that practically screams _you’re an idiot_. 

“Oh,” Vanya says. “Oh, no.”

Klaus’ stomach starts to sink. The truth of it darts just beyond his reach like a fish, silver scales flashing teasingly, and he can make out the vague shape of it but not the little details.

“Klaus,” Ben says quietly. Klaus heaves an exasperated sigh. He throws the chalk at the wall and imagines it hitting Luther instead. The chalk spins out of his hand, dances around the room. 

“Ow!” says Luther, and when Klaus spins around Luther is clutching the side of his head with a pained expression on his face. The piece of chalk lies at his feet.

“Oh,” says Klaus. “Oh, fuck.”

“You have Diego’s powers?” Allison demands. Five frowns so hard at the ground Klaus is kind of worried he’ll burn a hole through the hardwood.

“Holy shit,” Klaus says. He laughs in surprise. “Quick, someone find me a knife!”

“How could this have happened, Five?” Luther asks.

“I’m not entirely sure, but it may have something to do with. . . .” He trails off and drums his fingers against his chin. “Look, time isn’t exactly linear. Imagine it like a spiderweb, except made of countless strands that intersect at countless points.”

“Your point?” Allison says. Five scowls.

“My point is that I’ve never brought someone with me when time travelling before. When I brought us back here, we must have bumped up against one of the other strands. Something happened, but I’m not sure what.”

“Any ideas?” Ben asks. 

“The most obvious one is that Klaus and Diego switched places with the versions of themselves that came from an alternate dimension,” Five says. Klaus has a brief moment of existential panic at the thought that he might just be an alternate dimension clone of himself, but he quickly pushes it back. “Or maybe we brushed up against this timeline’s past and altered whatever event caused the forty-three of us to be born, which implies that our powers are determined by birth order, which is kind of cool, honestly.”

Ben takes Klaus by the arm and pulls him out into the hallway.

“Klaus, do you realize what this means?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Klaus replies, “I’m never going to lose a pillow fight again!”

“Focus,” Ben hisses. “Look, if you have Diego’s powers, then Diego has yours.”

And _oh_ , that’s not good. Klaus can practically feel the blood drain out of his face.

“Shit,” he says. He realizes with startling clarity exactly what Diego’s special training is going to entail. “Diego’s in the mausoleum!”

The front door slams shut as Sir chooses that moment to come home.

“ _Shit_!” Running on instinct and adrenalin, he darts back into Five’s room, Ben hot on his heels. “Don’t panic but Dad’s home.” They all stiffen and Vanya lets out a little squeak of fear. Klaus waves his hands through the air. “Ah, ah, ah, I just said don’t panic,” he snaps. “There’s going to be a change of plans, but I don’t have time to explain. Meet me in my room at eleven tonight.”

Footsteps on the stairs—Sir must be coming to check on them.

“Scatter!” Five hisses. They do. Ben grabs Klaus’ wrist again just outside of Klaus’ room. _He must not be used to the novelty of being able to touch people again_ , Klaus thinks, but that’s a problem for another time. They’re running on borrowed time right now; Klaus doesn’t want to know what Sir will do to them if he catches them.

“What are you planning?” Ben asks, his grip tightening when Klaus tries to jerk away. Klaus’ heart hammers in his chest. Sir’s shadow is visible on the wall across from them. “ _Klaus_. Focus. What are you going to do?”

Panting from fear, Klaus looks into Ben’s serious dark eyes and forces himself to calm down.

“I’m going to stop this,” he says. “We’re going to save Diego.”

* * *

In the Hargreeves mansion, it’s lights out at nine. Klaus has no delusions that Sir goes to sleep at the same time as everyone else, but his study and his bedroom are on the other side of the house, so he won’t notice when, one by one, Klaus’ siblings sneak into his room.

It’s smaller than he’s used to because he hasn’t yet knocked down the wall separating his room and the closet that Vanya sleeps in, but there’s still space enough for the six of them to lounge comfortably.

“Okay,” Five says. “What’s this about?”

Ben and Klaus exchange looks.

“This is your story to tell,” Ben says, “not mine.”

Klaus rolls his eyes, even as his palms start to sweat. He’s never had to explain this to anyone before, and he doesn’t know where to start. He bites his lip, and eventually says, hesitantly, “Diego is in trouble.”

Five bristles. “The Commission?”

“God, no, nothing like that. I just—” He breaks off with a growl. “Ben, help me out here, please.”

Ben sighs, sounding put-upon. “Look, when we were kids—the first time, I guess—Dad would lock Klaus in a mausoleum for days on end in order to force him to get over his fear of the ghosts. All it did was make everything worse.”

There’s a brief moment of silence before Luther says, “I don’t get it. Can’t you control the ghosts?”

Klaus laughs, and if it comes out a bit more bitter than he’d intended, well. No one calls him out on it. “I don’t control shit, Luther, you should know that by now. The ghosts do what they want, which usually means they haunt me because I’m the only one who can see them.”

“Hence the drugs,” Allison says softly.

“Ding, ding, ding!” Klaus says sarcastically. “Got it in one. I don’t see ghosts when I’m high. Trust me, you guys; if you had to deal with dead people screaming at you all the time, you’d turn to drugs, too. To numb powers I couldn’t control, I’d pop all the pills in the world.”

Vanya looks away uncomfortably.

“So Diego’s in the mausoleum,” Five says. “That’s what you’re saying, right?”

Klaus nods. “He’s not going to last in there. Knowing Dad, it’ll be a few days until we see Diego again, at least, and by that time it might be too late.”

“Too late for what?” Allison asks. Klaus shrugs.

“Not sure exactly,” he admits. Ben huffs.

“Look,” he says seriously. “Klaus grew up seeing ghosts, so by the time he went into the mausoleum, he was at least prepared. Diego’s been tossed into the deep end with a fucking anvil tied to his feet. It’s not going to end well for him.”

“So,” Klaus says, clapping his hands together once. The others hiss at him to be quiet, but he is undeterred. “So,” he says, at a marginally lower volume, “we need to bust Diego out.”

Another silence.

“Um,” says Five. “No. We can’t.”

Klaus’ mouth drops in outrage. “You can teleport!” he exclaims, gesturing wildly with his hands. “All you need to do is pop in, grab him, and pop out!”

“And when the Commission comes after us because of it?” Five retorts. “What then? You think we’re strong enough to fight them off on our own?”

“We did it before,” Vanya points out.

“Yeah, and we all almost died, like, ten times,” Allison replies.

“Look, you guys were physically adults then,” says Five. “None of our powers are fully developed except for Diego’s—or Klaus’, I guess—and Allison’s, and we can’t outlast the entire Commission with nothing but knives and rumors!” His voice is a sharp snap by the end of his tirade. Klaus personally thinks he’s getting cranky because he’s tired, but he likes his balls right where they are, so he doesn’t say anything except:

“And how is helping Diego going to get the Commission on our asses?”

“Helping Diego won’t get the Commission on our asses,” Five says, crossing his arms. “But helping Diego will make Dad suspicious because we all of a sudden care about each other, and then he’s going to experiment on us or separate us or something of that nature, and then the course of history will be changed through the butterfly effect, and _then_ the Commission will be on our asses.”

Klaus is quiet for a moment. “I just don’t want what happened to me to happen to Diego, too,” he says, very quietly. “Because if we don’t stop it, he’ll turn out just like me.”

None of them seem to know what to say to that. In what is clearly meant to be a comforting gesture, Luther claps him on the shoulder so hard that he almost pitches forward.

“We think you turned out okay, Klaus,” Vanya says. Klaus gives her a small smile because he truly does appreciate the effort, but he knows she’s lying out of her ass, or at the very least is only speaking for herself.

“I want to keep you idiots safe as much as the next person,” Five says, his voice just a touch more gentle than before. “But my main concern is the Commission. They’re the biggest threat to our safety right now.”

“Our physical safety, maybe,” Klaus says. “But what about our mental stability? Our psychological well-being? If we don’t get Diego out of there, this is going to scar him.”

Five sighs. “It’s not like we don’t all have our mental scars already,” he says. “And to keep all of us safe? I’m willing to let Diego get one more.”

Klaus recoils, and doesn’t look to anyone for help because he knows he’ll see acceptance in their faces.

“Fine,” he says, and his voice is hollow. “I’ll let you all get back to your beauty sleep, then. Especially you, Luther. And Allison, my angel, I’m sorry to say this, but you look a bit peaky.”

Allison rolls her eyes, and Five groans and vanishes without another word. They trail out of the room, except for Ben, who stays seated next to Klaus on the bed, and Vanya, who lingers in the doorway after the others are gone.

“For what it’s worth,” she says, “I know what it’s like to be locked up somewhere with your demons, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But Diego’s strong, and Five does have a point. All of our lives are at stake here.”

“So we martyr him?” Klaus asks, so, so tired all of a sudden. “Because he’d do it in a heartbeat if he were here and had a choice. You know as well as I do that he’s too self-sacrificing for his own good.” His lip curls the slightest bit. “You don’t understand. None of you could possibly understand.”

She leaves.

Klaus goes boneless, the sudden lack of tension in his body leaving him shaking. Ben scoots closer so Klaus can rest his head in Ben’s lap, and when the shaking doesn’t stop, Ben’s fingers begin carding soothingly through Klaus’ hair.

“This is so fucked,” Klaus whispers.

“I know,” Ben says with quiet assurance. He’s probably the only other person in this house who truly _does_ know, having been a ghost himself for so long. “But you’re right; the others don’t understand. They never will, so they’ll never take this seriously like you do.”

Klaus makes a noise of frustration. “I’ve given up on them taking me seriously,” he says, “but Diego? Yeah, he’s an ass, but he’s never done anything except protect this family. He gave so much of himself to them, and he was the only person besides you and Dave who ever actually gave a shit about me, and they’re just going to leave him to suffer like I did.”

“Don’t,” Ben says softly, “talk about him like he’s dead.”

And Klaus remembers, suddenly, that Diego and Ben used to be close, too, once upon a time. The three of them were damn near joined at the hip when they were little, until Sir started locking Klaus in the museum and Klaus turned increasingly to Ben for comfort, leaving Diego to fend virtually for himself against their other siblings.

No wonder Diego’s so emotionally constipated.

“What are we supposed to do, Ben?” Klaus wonders aloud. Ben’s fingers twitch against Klaus’ scalp.

“We can’t do anything except wait for Sir to let him out,” he says eventually, “and hope he’s as strong as Vanya claims he is.”

* * *

Three days.

Three excruciating days of waiting for Diego to show up, three days of getting his hopes up every time Sir comes home, only to have them crushed when Sir brings nothing back except empty hands and a disappointed glint in his eyes.

Things continue as normal in Diego’s absence, but Klaus has gotten used to having all of his siblings in the house, so he notices the Diego-sized hole in their routine like he’d notice a hole in the back of his head. The others are disconcerted, too, he can tell, but they’ve already refused to act, and Klaus won’t ask again.

On the evening of the third day, Sir is late to dinner, so Klaus and the others stand behind their chairs and fidget for the twenty minutes it takes him to get back. The silence chafes at Klaus like a badly fitted pair of pants, but Pogo is watching over them with a critical eye, and none of them dare speak.

When the front door opens, they all slump in relief. Even Five hasn’t been pushing Sir these past few days, if only because he doesn’t want to arouse Sir’s suspicion or the Commission’s attention. He works on his equations at night, and Klaus knows he hasn’t found anything yet because his eyebags have gotten deeper and deeper as the days go by and Vanya is still on her medication.

Klaus looks up automatically when Sir enters the room, expecting to be disappointed yet again, but he does a double take, his jaw dropped, when he sees that Sir isn’t alone today. Diego is standing next to him, and he looks _terrible_.

Klaus remembers feeling like shit warmed over every time he came back from the mausoleum, but at least he’d always been able to shower and rest a bit before having to face his siblings. Sir doesn’t seem to have given Diego the same courtesy.

Diego’s in the same schoolboy uniform that they’re all wearing, but his clothes are creased and covered in dust and cobwebs. There’s a dark smear across the lapels of his blazer that Klaus fears is blood, but worse than all of that is the _shaking_. Standing next to Sir Reginald, Diego trembles like a leaf in the wind, his eyes trained on the ground and his hands clenched into fists.

The air in the room seems to go cold. Allison sucks in a sharp breath.

“Go on, Number Four,” Sir says, giving Diego a hard nudge with the butt of his cane. Diego walks stiffly around the table to take his place in between Allison and Five, across from Klaus. Sir stalks to the chair at the head of the table and begins his nightly dinner ritual—lean his cane against the table, look critically at his children, pull out his chair in a signal that they should all sit.

Diego, Klaus notices, reacts half a second later than the rest of them. His left palm is wrapped in a dirty, bloodstained cloth. He’s still shivering and makes no move to eat, but if Sir notices, he doesn’t care. Klaus watches him for a moment before exchanging a worried glance with Ben. Five catches Klaus’ eye, too, looking vaguely sick, and Klaus can’t even be mad at him anymore for refusing to try and stop this in the first place. He’s never been good at holding a grudge, and now is no exception.

He clears his throat, takes a sip of water, taps his foot on the ground eleven times. Diego doesn’t look up, but his other siblings nod surreptitiously at him.

_Message received._

* * *

That night at eleven on the dot, Five teleports into his room. The others, sans Diego, file in soon after.

“Oh my God,” Vanya says quietly. She’s on her medication so her reactions to things are muted, but the horror in her eyes is clearly visible. “What did he do to Diego?”

It’s a rhetorical question, clearly, but Klaus says bitterly, “Locked him in a mausoleum for three days, just like I told you he would.”

“I don’t remember you ever coming home looking—like that,” Luther says quietly.

“Sir usually let me shower and cry for a few hours before he made me do anything else.” Klaus sighs and crosses his arms across his chest defensively. Ben scoots a little closer to him on the bed. “There’s no coming back from this, guys. The first time, I was this age when I first started smoking to get rid of the ghosts, and we all know how that turned out.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence.

“So we keep him away from drugs,” Allison says. “It can’t be that hard, right?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Ben says scathingly, and Allison frowns, offended. “None of you could get Klaus sober, and Klaus is much less stubborn than Diego is. Besides, the drugs aren’t the important thing here.”

“Thank you, Ben, for once again being the only person who actually listens to what I’m saying,” Klaus says.

Five rolls his eyes and says, “So what _is_ the important thing, then?”

“Depends on which problem you want to solve first, because we have a few,” Klaus says, and he begins to count them off on his fingers as he lists them. “Are you talking about the irreversible psychological damage Diego’s just taken, or perhaps the fact that we don’t know why Diego and I switched powers in the first place? Or maybe we need to focus on Vanya and her medication, and the fact that we still don’t know what we’re supposed to be doing here at all.”

“Klaus,” Ben says quietly, because Klaus’ voice has been rising steadily the longer he talks. Klaus ignores him.

“Or maybe,” he says sharply, “you’re referring to the fact that we don’t know whether the Commission is going to kill us all in our sleep for daring to exist in this timeline, and they might find a way to trigger another apocalypse that has nothing to do with Vanya because she’s _still taking her fucking medication_!”

“Jesus,” Ben groans, rubbing at his temples. “You yell loud enough to wake the dead.”

The tension in the room breaks immediately. Klaus laughs a touch hysterically at the pun and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“Low blow,” he says.

“Is it?” Ben replies.

“Okay,” Five says carefully, and when Klaus peers at him between his fingers, he’s watching Klaus with his hands out placatingly, like he’s trying to calm a scared horse. “You’re right, we have a lot we need to think about, but I don’t think anything’s going to get done tonight. We’re all exhausted and tensions are running high. We have half an hour of free time tomorrow. We can talk more then.”

Luther scrubs a hand through his hair. “Good idea,” he says. “Some distance will do us some good.”

“Fine,” Allison says. She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it a moment later and shakes her head. She and Luther leave, walking a bit closer than is strictly necessary, and Five teleports out right afterward. Ben hugs Klaus tightly for a long, long moment, and then he hops off the bed and leaves with Vanya.

Klaus lies in the dark for a long time, staring up at the ceiling, his mind whirling with half-formed thoughts and images. He sees Five scribbling on the chalkboard walls of his bedroom, Dave smiling at him from the shadows in the corner, himself trapped in the mausoleum. Rotting, ghostly faces leer at him, moaning and begging in languages he can barely understand, only it’s not him they’re tormenting, but Diego—Diego who reaches out for Klaus, his eyes wide and scared, his mouth open in a silent scream.

Klaus wakes with a jolt, his heart pounding against his ribs, and for a second he can’t remember where he is. Memories flood back after a second, and he slumps bonelessly back against the bed, rubbing at his eyes. He isn’t sure if he’ll be able to go back to sleep after that. The clock on his bedside table reads just after one in the morning. He wonders if Diego is still awake.

Sliding out of bed, Klaus wraps his blanket around himself like a cape and walks to Diego’s room, stepping carefully around all of the spots he knows will creak if he puts weight on them. Sir makes them keep all of their doors open, so all Klaus has to do when he reaches Diego’s is push it open just wide enough to let him in.

Diego sits up so fast he startles Klaus. A tiny sliver of pale blue moonlight falls across Diego’s face from out in the hallway. Diego looks just as rattled as Klaus feels, which he supposes is only to be expected. He doesn’t look displeased to see Klaus there, at least, which Klaus takes as a good sign.

“Not surprised you can’t sleep,” he says softly, stepping slowly closer. Diego does nothing but watch him silently. Klaus sighs. “The first time is the roughest. After that, you start to get used to it. At least there aren’t any ghosts in the mansion, right?”

Diego opens his mouth and then closes it, looking conflicted. “I don’t want to do that again,” he says finally. His voice is small and plaintive. “I _can’t_.”

“You might have to,” Klaus admits, because he’d forgotten how hard it is to lie to Diego’s face when he’s like this, all young and doe-eyed. “But I’ll do everything in my power to stop it from happening again.”

Diego makes a small sound in his throat. Klaus tries his luck and sits on the edge of the bed, and when Diego does nothing but watch him again, Klaus thinks, _In for an inch, and all that_ , and shuffles closer until he and Diego are sitting shoulder-to-shoulder.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it this time,” he says. Diego shakes his head.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not like you knew we switched powers.” He looks at Klaus out of the corner of his eye. “How’s that going for you, by the way?”

“What, the throwing shit? Pretty good. I don’t know how to throw knives, but my aim is fantastic.”

“I can teach you to throw knives.” Diego doesn’t smile, but Klaus hears the sentiment in his voice anyway. “And the other one?”

Klaus blinks. “Other one?”

Diego turns to look at him fully. “Oh,” he says. “You don’t know. Well, it can wait, I guess.”

“Hmm,” Klaus says, unconvinced. “How are you holding up? After the. You know. Are they still as bad as I remember?”

Diego closes his eyes. “They’re _awful_ ,” he says, his voice a moan almost as ghostly as the ones that haunt Klaus’ nightmares. Both of their nightmares, now, he supposes. “They don’t _listen_ to me and they wouldn’t shut the hell up and they kept trying to _touch_ me. . . .”

Klaus shivers despite himself. “Yup,” he says lightly. “Sounds about right.”

Diego’s head falls onto Klaus’ shoulder. His eyes are still closed.

“I’m sorry for the way we treated you all these years,” he murmurs softly. “We didn’t know how horrible this actually is for you. We never tried to understand why you turned to drugs.”

“You never had any reason to suspect,” Klaus says. “I’ve been high since I was thirteen, practically, and it’s easier to pretend that things are okay when I’m stoned out of my mind.”

“About that,” Diego says, and Klaus stiffens.

“Absolutely not,” he says. “Seriously. I’m not letting you become a junkie like me.”

Diego’s voice turns hot. “You’re not the boss of me.” But, Klaus notices, he doesn’t lift his head from Klaus’ shoulder. “I can do what I want.”

“Diego, please,” Klaus says, and Diego goes quiet. “Yes, it makes the ghosts go away, but I—” And he hesitates, because this isn’t even something he’s admitted to himself yet. But even as he says it, he finds that it’s true. “I kind of regret ever turning to drugs in the first place. It’s not worth it, Di. It’ll ruin your life.”

“Our lives are already ruined,” Diego says, but he doesn’t seem inclined to fight Klaus on the drug issue, so Klaus relaxes. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.”

“Me, neither,” Klaus says. “It’s okay. I need to stay awake so I can sneak back to my room before dear old daddy catches us and throws a fit, anyway.”

“Who said you’re staying?” Diego asks. Klaus smiles, a fleeting cryptid that leaves his face as suddenly as it came.

“Are you kicking me out?” he asks.

Diego grumbles but doesn’t say anything else. After a moment, Klaus lets his cheek rest on top of Diego’s head. He closes his eyes, and things are definitely not alright, but in the cushioning dark, with Diego warm and clean and whole beside him, things don’t seem as hopeless as they did before.

He supposes that’s all he can really ever ask for.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking of using this one-shot as a sort of prologue for a longer, multi-chaptered fic. What do you guys think?
> 
> Also I posted this super late at night so there are probably hella mistakes and typos. Just let me know if you catch any!
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> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
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